That was the feeling I had while playing, that FATALE was not focused on narrating a particular sucession of events, but to offer an highly ambiental and sensitive experience.

With your second statement you gave me a thought (SPOILERS! Please, play it first):

I find there is a very remarkable interactive and representational gap between the first and the second act. Both parts play completely different and have different focuses on, for example, the sensations the cause on the spectator. Also, as long as you present the credits after the first part it felt like it was more like a presentation, an introduction for the game itself.

Based on this, and on what you say (the game itself takes place in contemporary time) may it be the game itself, the second part, takes place in our time BUT the first part does not?

I thought maybe on the first part you wanted to take a different point of view from what the tale of Salomé is usually told: the point of view of the man that loses his head. At that moment we are in the middle of Salomé's story itself recalling what we have said before Salomé's start dancing and... feeling fear? making ready ourselves and relaxing for what we, as a prophet, know what will happen next?

But then the game "starts" and then we are on a open scenery with 3D movement, and we have to move and investigate on contemporary time. So I thought the game itself goes about from our own time reliving the situation, remembering of what could have happened that night, from our own time, with our perspective. We are a presence from nowadays time that decides to fall into Salomé's world to recall, as Yokanaán did on the first part of the game. We have to, through a living paint, a scene of that old story, search and extinguish the lights, as if we were taking that old book we read ages ago and trying to remember how it felt by re-reading just the final pages, until we end (we finish with the lights). It's like we were examining in our own memories the Salomé's tale but, at the same time, making a new chapter of the story. Because we remember from a scene that was never told on the original story and that, at the same time, it's the same scene when we are now: the aftermath of the story. The story was over since we lived it before, so it's reasonable to relive it through the same situation we are now, when everything is over.

We finally finish remembering, and then, the moon make us come back to our world. And as long as we have finished this remembering process, we have to quit FATALE.

As long as the game is a BIG epilogue, why not end it with a epilogue for the epilogue? Why not to do it from our time by doing what was at the center of that old story: the dance of Salomé. So, to end our particular tribute to that ancient tale, we see Salomé, but not the old Salomé, the Salomé of our time, dancing, but not a dance from that ancient times, we see here dancing a dance of our time. A dancing from our time that through us flow, as a gift, to that ancient times, that ancient characters, that old writer.

That's a very credible interpretation, Welks. It makes sense, especially when you consider that in the second scene, the protagonist is dead and as such, time has lost its normal meaning.

I always thought of the last part as just a young woman dancing on a rooftop for her own pleasure. Maybe she's practicing. That's why she's not wearing her jewels. (We even considered for a moment to dress her in a track suit or something. )

I find really interesting the fact that when you talk about your own works, you always talk about your point of view, your interpretation, your opinion etc.

I have always considered that the artists are in fully control of what they do, like if the only ultimate, real and truly explanation and interpretation of that things they produce is theirs. It is quite remarkable the fact you always put all that thoughts at the same level as the rest of people.

Marcel Duchamp considered art as a kind of electricity that happens between the two poles of art work and viewer. I've always been fond of that way of looking at it. He also leaves the artist out of the equation. And even the art work itself is only part of the experience. Duchamp has also warned against believing anything the artist says about their own work.

At the risk of sounding like a hippy or a religious madman, I see the role of the artist as a sort of medium. He receives signals from "somewhere" and transmits these, translates these, forwards the message to his community. As such, the artist, to some extent, does not know what he is doing. He just creates the work that some external force is making him create, mostly following his instinct.

That doesn't mean that the artist is not in control of the creation. And doesn't have some clear idea of what the work should feel like. It's just not very rational. But that doesn't mean the artist doesn't know exactly what he's doing. He just can't explain it (even to himself). That's what the art work is for.

This only sounds supernatural if you believe that rational thought is the only way of getting to the truth. If, on the other hand, you believe that there's many more ways of perceiving reality, then it's easy to accept that artists simply have a certain perceptive ability that is better developed than in other humans (much like some people are more intelligent or stronger or taller or more beautiful). Because I believe art making is mostly about perceiving things a certain way. The creation itself is just work, which requires yet another talent.

At the risk of sounding like a hippy or a religious madman, I see the role of the artist as a sort of medium. He receives signals from "somewhere" and transmits these, translates these, forwards the message to his community.

It is very difficult for people nowadays to accept such an approach. They tend to perceive it as some kind of boasting (since it suggests that the artist is in touch with something great, transcendent, unavailable for average mortals), while on the other hand they are not capable of understanding that one may willingly serve as a medium. Just because the very idea of serving is considered somehow inferior: all that

Quote:

homicidal bitchin' that goes down in every kitchen to determine who will serve and who will eat

(L. Cohen).

I find your statement very refreshing and reassuring - it is so nice to know that still some people are bold enough to view their creative work this way, with all bad news which this perspective conveys to one's mind (for example: the source of creativity is everlasting but the access to it may end every day - the medium by definition is not in full control of the source). I guess these bad news and limitations are around there anyway but it takes strength to face them, and the reward both for the artist and for those "who will eat" (including me) is immense.

Now I view in a different light your archangel metaphore which I considered a bit risky at another occasion. Clearly, an angel is primarily God's messenger and - as a medium for something that transcends him - is an excellent figure of the artist.

I don't think the "source" of the artist is necessarily transcendent. I think an artist, first and foremost, is an observer. And in his work, he tries to show what he has seen. Maybe some people have better developed skills or talents for observation. Or maybe they simply take their time when observing.

The most basic form of art is architecture. And the most basic form of architecture is the frame. Maybe that is all an artist does: put a frame around a certain part of the chaos we call reality and make people look at it.

I like very much your "frame metaphore" although my first association would be photography rather than architecture, especially when I think about hundreds of bad pictures that one has to discard to finally find the right one.

I used the words "to transcend" and "transcendent" in the sense coming from their etymology - "to overpass, to exceed", although clearly a deeper philosophical or religious meaning was not excluded (in some sense, "transcendence" may - by definition - exclude being accessed by any human being, including artists). In fact, I purposedly used the word "suggests" because I totally agree with you on:

Quote:

Maybe some people have better developed skills or talents for observation. Or maybe they simply take their time when observing.

Anyone, or almost anyone, has a limited access to the "sources", which may be not enough to make one an artist (limited talents may mean that "their time" is more than one's life) but certainly enough to realize that the "sources" are out there and to appreciate that others may have a better access and deliver the message. However, I think most people do not want to acknowledge that - perhaps they are scared or simply too lazy. Which is a great pity, because I think it is an equvialent of voluntarily becoming deaf and blind. I like a lot Tolkien's concept saying, as far as I remember it, that since God created man in his own image, we can find in every person some reflection of God's features and thus we are also naturally endowed with a glimpse of the Divine power of creation (which Tolkien called sub-creation). A very smart religious justification of arts, especially if you are a devout Roman Catholic like Tolkien and still want to build a world of your own. But I believe it is as true as it is smart!

By the way, I think all the above refers as well to other sorts of human creativity than arts.